Freedom Is Just a Word
by Akarai
Summary: From a prompt on the Kinkmeme. The premise is that the Circle is truly horrific, and gets worse after the Mages are saved. Uldred and a bisexual Anders were lovers. When Wynne leaves the group, F!Warden Tabris needs a new healer for her trip to Amaranthine, and they 'give' her Anders, who thinks he is the Wardens' slave. Rated T for dark themes including non-con.
1. Chapter 1

**The Circle**

Anders looked up at Uldred with hero worship in his eyes. They had found an old, forgotten store room, away from prying eyes, and made it comfortable, with armfuls of bedding and a small amount of magic. His older lover had hooded eyes, copper skin, a powerful nose and a shaved head; patrician, virile, powerful.

Uldred was a libertarian, one who wanted freedom for the mages, who wanted to ensure that young magi like the boy he loved were not abused from puberty. That he didn't have to see another sobbing child ripped from their parents and thrust into a life of pain, slavery and despair.

His first plan had been to prove the worth of magic to the new King; a young, innocent man who seemed keen to embrace change. When that was scuppered by a wizened old Chantry mother – what was a priest doing at a council of war anyway? – He had formulated another.

He explained to Anders that after escaping the bloodied ruins of Ostagar he had sought out a powerful warlord who wished to seize the throne, and had promised to free the circle in exchange for Uldred's help. All he had to do was destroy the Templar presence at the tower. Easier said than done, and Uldred knew he would have to resort to blood magic. Anders had tried to dissuade him; as a powerful spirit healer he was all too aware of the Fade and its dangers. The older man found the boy's concern and innocence touching; he was confident he could outwit any trifling demon.

"Tonight, at the mage's council, I will strike," Uldred told his lover.  
"And I will be beside you!" The young man replied, pride and adoration in every fibre of his being. Uldred simply smoothed Anders tousled blond hair and kissed him tenderly. Then he rose, pretending to hear armoured footsteps, and left the room, before slamming the door shut and locking it, sealing the barrier with magic to make sure.

Fists began pounding on the seasoned wood and Uldred pressed his forehead against it. "Forgive me, Anders," he murmured. "I am not selfless enough to risk your life."

**Aftermath**

After the Hero of Ferelden had rescued the mages and walked off, feeling very pleased with herself about it, things worsened for those remaining. Anders hadn't realised that Uldred had been protecting him; bribing, threatening and seducing to keep the Templars away from his paramour. He was locked in solitary for a year and used and abused by all and sundry. Even Cullen, who had previously been courteous, began to participate in the beatings and torture, muttering martyred nug shit about it all being for the sake of the Maker.

Anders was called into the Knight Commander's office one day and brusquely informed that he would be taking Wynne's place – that he was being given to the grey wardens. Sudden, irrational fear pulsed through him. The Templars were bad, but he had learned their habits, their weaknesses; how to mitigate the worst of their behaviour. He had heard the rumours of Grey Warden stamina and imagined himself being passed round the group like a chew toy. He left the commander's office, desperately racking hi s brain for a suitable scheme, and not for the first time, missing the wise counsel of Uldred and his friend Jowan's quick, pragmatic wit. But Uldred was dead, and Jowan was gone, escaped into the ether.

While packing his meagre possessions and bidding goodbye to his few surviving friends, he came up with a plan. He would likely be taken by the Commander first. So all he needed to do was make the Commander want to keep him. He had seen his mentor Wynne manage it with Knight Commander Gregoir; granted, her servitude did not seem to be easy, but it was better than being shared with all and sundry. He resolved to be as seductive, pliable and submissive as possible – to do anything to charm the man into claiming him exclusively.

**The Grey Camp**

Tabris had seen Wynne recover since leaving the tower, the circles under her eyes fading, her nerves steadying. She had put it down to the near death experience the older woman had suffered. She had also not questioned it when the Senior Enchanter had left, travelling to some sort of Magi Retreat; the elf considered that – especially with Wynne's shortened lifespan – the mage deserved a break. But now she was being deployed to Amaranthine, and she needed a healer. Luckily the Circle had offered her one, a Spirit Healer trained by Wynne herself; they told her he was younger but incredibly able, and she had agreed readily.

Tabris looked up from her map of Ferelden to see a tall, masculine mage flanked by four templars. She frowned, as usual disliking their silent, inhuman presence. The lieutenant of the group bowed to her.  
"Warden Commander of the Grey. Please sign for your new healer."  
The elf's mouth twitched and she scribbled on the proffered document. She handed it back, and was given a soft package in return.  
"Great. Now shoo." They bowed in unison and moved away. The mage did not relax as they left.

Anders' mind was racing. Okay, a woman, not a man. Fine. He had seduced female templars before – most notably Rylock – and in his own time, he enjoyed both genders. The elven woman stood, a slight figure to have defeated three dragons and he tensed warily as she stepped forward.  
"Welcome," she said, inclining her head. She didn't touch him, remembering Wynne's early reticence about even simple gestures like hand-shaking.  
"I hear you are a spirit mage of some skill."  
"I… hope to be able to please you, my lady."

Tabris smiled quizzically, not really understanding him.  
"My friend Alistair will show you where you are sleeping; you are to take his sleeping quarters, as he is heading to Weisshaupt, in the Anderfels. That's where you're from originally, is it not?"

"It…it is," he replied, nervously wondering why she was being well-mannered toward him.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Commander's Chamber**

Around dusk, Anders received the summons he had expected. He had bathed for the occasion, slipped a gold ring through his left earlobe and brushed his blond hair until it shone. His skin was scented, his clothes fresh and his emotions restrained beyond measure. He summoned the coquette within him, and headed toward the Commander's chamber.

He found her collating statistics, poring over maps and looking exhausted. She glanced up, and managed a tired smile. "Be with you in a moment, Anders."  
He continued standing as she wrapped up her business, settling down with a sigh. "Sit down, recruit. How're you feeling? I know it's a long journey from Lake Calenhad to Denerim."

"It… it was fine my lady. You seem weary though," he said in a rush. "Perhaps I could help? I am a healer after all, and I have been told I give an excellent massage…"

Tabris chuckled, rubbing her own neck. "You'd get on very well with an Antivan I know."

The mage quailed, wondering if he were to be sold to some dockside madam. Misinterpreting his look, she gestured toward a brisk young woman.  
"Mhairi, please escort Anders back to his quarters. Anders, I'll debrief you in the morning."  
The woman walked his back toward the barracks, pointing out landmarks and notable people. She offered to take him to the mess, but he declined preferring to go hungry rather than risk it just yet. Mhairi smiled with sympathy and bid him goodnight. He was surprised once again when she left the door unlocked. _They probably know I've nowhere to go, _he thought miserably, slowly unlacing his boots and outer robes, but feeling too vulnerable to strip down completely. He hated the waiting game – they had tortured him with it in solitary, taunting him about what they were going to do. His only comfort had been a cat called Mr Wiggums. When the adorable moggy had become possessed by a rage demon, he had taken out three of Anders' tormentors before he was brought down. Sometimes, the mage fondly imagined that the cat had become susceptible to the demon because he was so furious at his beloved Anders' plight.

A barrage of booted feet clattered down the hall, putting an end to his semi-pleasant reverie and shocking him fully awake. His gut clenched and his heart pounded, thinking the expected abuse was about to start. Ribald jokes and innuendo echoed through the corridor as the men drew closer – and walked past.

He let out a sigh of relief. _Of course, _he thought. _Commander always gets first taste. _After all, he reminded himself, just because she was too tired tonight, didn't mean she was going to let her soldiers have first go. For a moment, he wondered if she actually liked men. Well, he would see tomorrow. And if not, she would be bound to have a second, or senior advisor he could attach himself to – not as good as the commander, but it would afford him some protection. With that not-very-comforting thought, he fell into a restless, fitful sleep until dawn.

The next morning, he did the best he could after little sleep, picked up his staff and headed toward the training ground as ordered. The Commander was there, and to his relief, he thought he caught a flash of appreciation.  
"Right Mage! Show me what you can do!"

He was taken aback. "What, here?" he blurted out.


End file.
